All things shrink into mirrors. Interstate lights,
crosses zip-tied to fences, distant cities
you notice only as patches of sky glow
where some stars step away from the bodies
we always draw them into. All things shrink
even the moment
when one radio station is shot through
by another, some symphony succumbing
to the brimstone of a small-town preacher.
It’s like the place you’re driving away from
trying to keep its hands on you, the invisible strings
threaded through your shoulders finally breaking,
and you not knowing whether the strings
were holding you back or holding you up.
Andrew Hemmert is a sixth-generation Floridian living in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Jabberwock Review, The Literary Review, Louisville Review, Poet Lore, and Tar River Poetry. He earned his MFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale, and currently serves as an Assistant Editor for Fifth Wednesday Journal.